drops of jupiter
by drapples
Summary: now she's back in the atmosphere with drops of jupiter in her hair . or, the story not of love, but of a struggling between what was and what could have been . she came back and surely that must have meant something . massiederrick


now she's back in the atmosphere with drops of jupiter in her hair . or, the story not of love, but of a struggling between what was and what could have been . she came back and surely that must have meant something . massiederrick

a/n: valentine's day exchange for alex [maraudings] c: I tried to make it angsty but i've just been in a wonderful mood lately so if its not sad enough rorsy. its also not as good or as long as I was hoping but eh I guess I tried

i believe this turned into the notebook at one point or another so i became a killjoy oops

parings: massington.

prompts: "i see that i'm a little piece of a big, big universe", dense fog, maple trees, a train ride

preferred rating: anything goes

triggers: none? i mean, i don't like the romanticism of depression or eating disorders and the like, but it's not really a trigger.

tropes: all popular tropes just left my head rn sorry do whatever you want.

notes: i like angst. the more of it, the better.

**{:}**

**drops of jupiter**

{ i }

Her chocolate brown curls hung just above her hips, pulled back with a pastel bow. Milky skin, glossy lips. Calculating amber eyes lined with charcoal. Derrick could probably bore you to tears with all of the cliché things about her [what he loved about her] but he found that cliché was quite overdone and overrated. _Over_ in general, really.

So for now, let's just call Massie a girl and Derrick a boy. And, as young boys and girls do much too often, they fell in love.

{Love is a tricky word though; even the genius Kristen Gregory wasn't too sure of the exact definition. Perhaps more research into the subject was due.}

But that whole crazy young love thing was forever ago. She left after high school and didn't even glance back at the distraught blonde boy she left behind. Wrecked and heartbroken. But he should have seen it coming, really. Massie wasn't one to settle for anything. And it certainly wasn't like they were going to get married.

{ i i }

Dense fog wrapped around Massie's ankles as she stepped out into the cold, heels click-clacking against wet pavement. Her dainty fingers coiled around the handle of her rolling suitcase tightly, knuckles turning white. "No turning back," she whispered harshly to herself. "Westchester is dead to you."

She was never a convincing liar, but that one seemed to do the trick.

Feet rushing, she found herself climbing onto a slick plane and into a generic polyester seat. Massie had already endured the god-awful situation with Derrick; his romantic rush to the airport to stop her from making a _mistake_ of sorts. They _belonged together_, or so he claimed.

But Massie wasn't too sure of who she was at all, let alone who she belonged with. So, she ran away [as always]. Massie could say this running away thing was a spontaneous journey of soul searching and exciting endeavors...but she would be completely lying. Hours upon hours she spent digging through the internet for reasonably priced [but reliable] plane tickets, begging her parents for more money, arranging hotel suites, and more.

Let's just say that running away is not something Massie would ever recommend.

The blonde boy, meanwhile, sat in a plastic chair at the airport. His face drained of all rosiness, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his hands. A prickling feeling washed over his brown eyes, but tears didn't come.

{ i i i }

Derrick likely would have completely moved on from _the girl who left Westchester forever_ had it not been for her sudden return three years later.

On a train ride to the Upper East Side (where his father and step-mother now officially reside), the unmistakable and rather intoxicating fragrance of Chanel No. 19 made him whip his head around to find a girl with straight dark hair and shining amber eyes, donning all sorts of designers Derrick wouldn't try to name. "Hello, Derrick."

Two words. Two simple words. That was all it took to make Derrick want to run away and take off his pants, flashing his butt to everyone in sight-the way he solved problems back in middle school when he first met that girl. But this was modern society and he was a twenty-one year old soccer player getting a degree in _something _at _some sort of _ivy league. These things were not so simply laughed at and brushed off as they were when he was thirteen.

So, in spite of his panic, he smirked and replied, "Hey, Block," before he turned back around.

"Did anything happen in Westchester while I was gone?" she had asked.

"Depends," he said, picking up his duffle and staring her square in the eyes. "Would you care?"

_Probably not,_ Derrick answered for her in his head as he got off at the station.

To think that they were ever in love.

{ i v }

His parents threw a dinner party in celebration. [It was just his father and step mother really; mom got cancer the year before. She died. It was sad. And that's about all Derrick chose to remember.] What they were celebrating; Derrick didn't particularly know nor care.

Massie was there in all of her glory. Frosty lips turned up at the corners in her classic smile, amber orbs flickering over the room and twinkling in the light. For a second, they caught each others eyes, and for a second Derrick felt something. _Probably vomit,_ he wanted to conclude. But it was stronger and much more..._unsettling_ than every day heaves.

So, he drug himself to the mahogany bar and did the only thing he could do as a twenty-one year old at a socialite party. Buy a drink.

The rush of alcohol burning his throat was exhilarating and refreshed his mind. It felt almost too good. It couldn't be healthy. Right about now, his mother would be nagging him, _Derrick, that stuff is bad for your health-poison, I tell you! _But really, what look where all of that _medical knowledge_ got her.

Derrick was so wrapped up in thought, he didn't notice the brunette slide into the stool next to him until she spoke up. "Derrick, I've been thinking," _Oh no, not again. _"And I'm sorry for what happened, I-"

"Who are you?" She narrowed her eyes, puzzled, and opened her mouth when he interrupted her again with a slur. "You said you were finding yourself when I caught up to you at the airport that day." The boy turned, brushing his coarse thumb over her soft palm slowly while looking her in the eye. "Who are you?"

He couldn't blame her for not responding.

{ v }

There was this girl Derrick met at a club his friends drug him to. _A good fuck is what you need, _they drawled. Derrick would refute that statement, especially since he didn't end up even having _any _sex with her.

He thought she was good for him, and really, she was. Dylan was just..._different. _

But, so was Massie.

His confusion led to the making of a small chart in the back of his notebook.

Pro's:

-outgoing

-funny

-likes food

Con's:

-burps a lot

-insecure [despite beauty]

-nothing

What he meant by nothing, he wasn't quite sure. Something was off; no magical electricity tantalizing his mind, dancing on his skin or rushing through his veins each time they touched. Perhaps his expectations were too high, or he was refusing to move on from one-whom-shall-not-be-named [no, not Voldemort] or maybe, it just wasn't right.

[They broke up one week later.]

{v i }

So, Massie fell in love with someone else. Derrick spotted her across the room, with him; the boy that would eventually break her heart as she did his, and scowled, turning back to his tequila and taking a swig.

"Do you still feel something?" Josh asked from next to him, having followed his glare back to the brunette.

"No," he grumbled, the lie rolling right off his tongue and through clenched teeth.

A few drunken hours passed, Derrick still hunched over at the bar and staring absentmindedly at girls [to fit in with his friends, really; and the stereotypes that come with them] and Massie took Josh's place the way she did when she first came back. "What do you want now?" he murmured, sounding harsher than intended.

"I don't know." Three years and she still couldn't figure it out.

He leered over to her, giving her a once-over. She looked as stunning as ever, her eyes lighting up like a multitude of suns filling her glassy amber orbs.

{v i i }

The two were leaned up against maple trees, looming outside the party. Stringy lights shined in the distance; just beyond a small, grassy hill. Derrick had his hair hanging in his eyes as he gazed up at the stars. "Did you miss me?"

Massie chose not to answer, because as much as she wanted to say [_no, I don't love you, I love_ _James_]and how she didn't quite believe [_yes, constantly-I love you and only you] _fit her feelings because it's been too long to think of anything of the sorts.

So, Derrick began drawing constellations in the sky with his eyes with the occasional glance to the girl he never could figure out.

Not much has changed, really.

{ v i i }

Years come crashing into each other like asteroids and suddenly they have lives other than with each other. But, most suppose that they were simply high school sweethearts and that was the past; none of those feelings would remain. And sure, it may be true for some but they were each other's first love and no one could replace that.

However, they were stubborn and denial was their best asset.

Derrick's father caught some of that _cancer _stuff like his mother. Seems that everyone these days gets it at one point or another; and when it truly comes down to it, they only want one of two things: remission or death.

It's not that it's an option or anything.

The Block's only daughter moved to London with James, having _x _amount of kids and _x _amount of pets. Derrick didn't care enough to keep track but really, he was lucky they were still in relative contact. He would have to savor it until the moment she died of-well, perhaps some things are best left mysteries.

{ - }

All in all, Massie was a girl and Derrick was a boy. And, as young boys and girls do much too often, they grew up.

Or so they would claim each night to the blissful silence of shooting stars and galaxies beyond their own.

Their story forever an insignificant piece of a universe that belongs to someone else.


End file.
